Lessons from the Big Dig

Sunday

May 5, 2013 at 3:15 AM

Have you ever noticed what happens when the public works guys are sent out to fix the road? It seems like there is always just one guy with a shovel digging a hole like his life depends on it, while six guys are standing around with their arms folded on their chest just watching.

So, who are the six guys watching and how did they get out of doing any of the work? Are they all the bosses of the lone man doing all the shoveling, or are they a band of male cheerleaders who have lost their pom-poms?

I have never understood this phenomenon and still don’t, but I have now participated in a similar experience as one of the “official watchers.”

It all started months ago when our 14-year-old son, Jeff, had a few buddies over to shoot some hoops in our driveway. We had an ancient basketball backboard and hoop mounted on a metal pole. The boys loved it and used it often. Jeff would shoot hoops for hours. Dan and I called him “the mailman,” because neither wind, nor rain, nor snow would keep him from his appointed rounds of shooting baskets.

On this day, Dan and I had about an hour’s worth of errands to do, so we left Jeff and his buddies in the driveway. When we returned, Jeff came out of the house looking a little sheepish. “Um something happened while you guys were gone,” Jeff stammered.

“What? Is everything all right?” I said, panicked. “Did someone get hurt?”

Dan and I turned to see the pole sheared off. It was rusted and had rotted right through the metal.

“We’re not mad, Jeff. It isn’t your fault at all,” Dan said. “The pole is very old. We are just so glad no one got hurt.”

So Jeff and his three brothers were hoopless through the fall and the long winter months — no pickup games after supper, no H-O-R-S-E on Thanksgiving Day and no marathon basketball sessions once Daylight Savings Time came. Ever one step away from financial ruin, Dan and I had to wait until our tax return to buy a new pole and backboard. Dan did a thorough Web search to find the best deal. The new basketball setup finally arrived last Friday in a box via UPS.

“This ought to be fun,” Dad mused, looking at the directions. “Piece of cake,” he laughed as he lined up all the components. As it turned out, putting it together wasn’t the problem — the real challenge was digging the hole.

Our house is built on ledge. If you dig down six inches anywhere in our front yard, you will hit solid rock. Dan and the boys did not want to put the hoop where the old one had been — that would have been too easy. The old pole sat at the top of a hill. If you missed a shot, you had to scamper down the hill while avoiding strategically placed piles of dog doo to retrieve the ball. Not fun. The new location would avoid that pitfall.

“You know there’s only one way to dig a new hole,” I told Dan. “You’ll have to get a jackhammer.”

He smirked. “I’m already on it.”

What man doesn’t want to operate a jackhammer, right?

So, last Sunday we signed our life away at the equipment rental department in Home Depot. We would have four hours to get the job done. If we didn’t get the jackhammer back by then, we would have to pay extra. The rental was already costing us $66.

So we hustled home with our super rented toy. Dan did just fine for about the first hour. He even let me try it. We felt smart and powerful. This hole was going to be dug in no time!

We needed a 24-inch hole, but at a depth of 16 inches, the jackhammer bit got wedged in rock and wouldn’t come out. Luckily, Dan pulled the jackhammer out, attached another bit and jackhammered until he freed the bit that was stuck. But, it was the beginning of a long siege. With just 20 minutes to go before we were supposed to return the jackhammer, both bits got stuck in solid ledge. It was going to take a miracle to free them and get the machine back on time.

That’s when we turned into the public works department. Dan stood over the hole with a crowbar and sledgehammer trying to break the rock’s grip on Home Depot’s equipment. He swung the hammer until he was exhausted. He dug dirt inside the hole with his bare hands. He did everything but stand on his head trying to get the bits out. Finally, with about 8 minutes to spare, Dan’s grueling work paid off. Jenn’s boyfriend, NeRoy (he’s from Jamaica) reached down into the hole and, like the young King Arthur, he pulled Excalibur from the rock. “Hurrah!” Everyone screamed.

I was the wet blanket reminding them there was still another bit stuck in the hole. “Tick, tock, tick tock!” I said, moving my hand back and forth like it was a metronome.

I knew they would never make deadline without calling in the big gun, the genius, Mr. Razzle Dazzle, Mr. Fix-it. “Jacob,” I yelled to our 17-year-old son. “Please help. We need you.”

Jacob took his sweet time finishing a plate of blueberry waffles before joining the rescue. He sauntered over to the hole and sized it up. He felt the bit, moved it around a little and asked Dan what the buried end looked like. In particular, he wanted to know the shape. “Hmmm. I can get this out,” he pronounced to the hushed crowd. He used the crowbar and sledgehammer for just three minutes before pulling out the bit.

“Hoorah!” I knew you could do it Mr. Fix-it,” I screamed.

I don’t understand how he could sense where to apply the pressure to break the rock, but he exerted much less effort than anyone else and came up with the bit. It’s always that way with him. He could rule the world if he wasn’t so busy eating blueberry waffles.

We were 10 minutes late getting the jackhammer back to Home Depot, but they didn’t charge us a penalty. Victory!

I learned some valuable lessons from this episode that I’d like to pass on, dear readers:■ Don’t build your house on solid ledge.■ Somehow, it actually does help to have one man digging the hole and six or seven watching, but the reason remains a mystery.■ When you get stuck, call Jacob.■ And never underestimate the power of blueberry waffles.

POSTSCRIPT — In my last column I promised an update on my recent yard sale. In case you are curious, I made a profit of $77 in three hours and got rid of lots of junk. Surprisingly, clothing and books were the best sellers.

Mary Pat Rowland is the Foster’s managing editor and reachable at mprowland@fosters.com.